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Jessica Jean
Information Name: Jessica Jean Nickname: Jess Age: 15 DOB: 6th October, 1995 Hair Color: Blonde Eye Color: Silver-blue Favorite Color: Green and black, but looks best in different shades of blue Favorite Food: Anything sweet like chocolate pancakes, ice-cream, etc. Hobbies: Writing, drawing, film editing, reading comics and singing Career Dream: To be come a graphic novelist Worst Fear: Dying alone and being sent to Hell for her perverse thoughts History Jessica can come across to new people as either shy or awkward/weird, but once she gets to know people she tends to just be a total idiot of awesome. She can be confident when she's at her happiest (usually making really lame jokes and not being afraid to laugh), but will break under pressure and let people talk her into things she usually avoids. She will do anything to know that she's safe and protect the people around her, even the ones she barely knows. She has a twisted sense of humour that can laugh at a bad situation to cover up her nerves, but also involves poking fun at herself and laughing off her mistakes. A high school student at St Peter's College, Jess is the youngest in her family and hides her insecurities and fears deep down inside. Too stubborn to tell anybody and terrified of what people would think of her, there is a lot beneath the surface of what's such an innocent face. In school, she is bullied by taunts and teases, but her friend, Jack White, always has her back. Not admittedly, she has a crush on him, but is afraid to confess. After coming home, she recieves calls of taunts and teases that seemed recorded earlier, followed by the voice of the Red Death. She had first heard of him through an explicit video of his murder, but first when hearing his voice threatening to come to the ball or her crush will die, things went from bad to worse. Victim in Holding: Her long-time crush and best friend, Jack White. Dress and Mask Jessica's Prologue My name is Jessica Jean and I was touched by the Red Death. I didn't think that it would happen to me. I'm not an important person. Wealthy, maybe. That's it. The first time I heard about the Red Death was when I was in homeroom. I go to St Peter's College in Kite City. It's a pretty elite high school and you have to be high middle-class at least to get in. It's a Catholic school, but most students go there just because of it's high reputation and class (yet the students have nothing to match the morals it establishes.) Our fathers are businessmen and scientists and our mothers are designers and doctors. But us? We're scoundrels and bogans who spit in their faces and destroy the school's reputation. Yes, we appear to be sweet and merciful and girls of God, but inside we're controlled by the devil and think that sin is win. Of course, I'm not like that. I may be a small-time sinner but at least I know what I've done is wrong. I wasn't one for makeup and boys and trampy outfits. I'm a jeans-and-converse girl. T-shirts with bold pictures and slogans are my life, as are vests coated in buttons and badges. I was at my happiest when watching cartoons. I tried having a relationship, but I came to know that the world of love was something too distant for me. I stuck to video-editting and story writing while other girls bragged about their new iSomething and limozine parties. I was just as wealthy as they were, but I dressed like something that came from a two-dollar store. I'm not going to say that I don't have any friends. That's just stupid. Everyone has a friend in some form or another. I had my group of smiling faces that didn't get my jokes, but they got the fact that I was an idiot when I wanted to be. We laughed at each other and with each other. We were outcasts and we were proud about it. But one day in homeroom, everyone was as quiet as I was. Sunken in their seats. Not looking at anything specific. Lost. Painted grey. For the first time in my lifetime, I knew I had to speak out. I looked around at their hollow faces and put the question out there in a whisper... "What's happened?" Immediately I was greeted with confused faces. "What do you mean?" I shrugged, glancing around to meet all their faces. "Why is everyone so...?" I couldn't quite explain it. No one really could. They stared at me in surprise. "You really don't know, do you?" I was never that good at keeping up with the news. I was taken to a girl's laptop. She was watching a YouTube video over and over. Continuously staring at it blankly. It showed the same image every time but she kept watching to see if it would ever change. It never did. Someone had filmed the gruesome murder of a man. I knew his face, but not his name. I didn't have the time for names anymore. I always forgot them, anyway. But I knew the faces. His had been displayed everywhere in the papers. The man was famous for his brand of cigarettes. A businessman. Just like every one of our fathers. Some of our fathers worked for this man. This man in the front of the papers. And now he appeared in the obituaries. I remember his name now. Everyone does. Matthew Roberts. Creator of Robert's Cigarettes. I'm just surprised he didn't die of lung cancer. The Red Death beat him to it. The video starts sharp and crisp. The figure, tall and masked, approached the bound and gagged suit. He was beaten. His face was scarred. His eyes were puffy pink and bruised with rings of black. Then this shadow of a figure comes down on him, what looks like a dagger made of a hooked ember tracing his jugular. And then there's blood. Dripping scarlet runs from the wound down his clothes and onto his lap as he hangs his head. And it's over. The only thing that lasts at the very end of it is this laughter. Like a deep growl and yet with a purr of delight. It all fades to black and ends with the title text: I AM THE RED DEATH I knew why we were meant to be scared. We were the daughters of these men. Of these politicians, companies and important faces of Kite City. Our parents could be taken in the middle of the night. Slaughtered by morning. We wouldn't even know. We were just the innocent little rich girls and well-behaved boys that said their prayers each night. Perfect victims for a terrorist. Deep down inside, we weren't really afraid. Not really. We wanted to be. We wanted an excuse to become terrified. It gave us a reason to burst into tears in the middle of class. We could lie to our teachers without them over-thinking it, saying that we were too traumatized from the tape to do any work. It brought some danger and sense of fear into our otherwise boring and useless lives. I'm not saying that we weren't scared after that video. We were! It was horrifying and disturbing to watch such a respected man being brought down to his knees. He had done no wrong, hurt nobody and committed no crime, yet this monster had killed him in a matter of seconds with a flick of his wrist. "Amazing, isn't it?" I looked up from my locker to see Jack's face smiling back. I raised an eyebrow coyly. "What is?" "It took him five seconds to kill Roberts, but probably whole days full of planning..." he said in awe. "This 'Red Death' guy has probably got years of experience up his sleeve, and yet he only starts killing these fat-cats off now..." I stared at him in surprise. "Are you in love with this guy? Wait until Harry finds out about this..." "Don't you know? Harry and I have an open relationship..." Jack leaned on the locker beside mine, giving me a sly smile. "And when I mean 'open', Jessie, I mean 'open'..." he said in a voice like treacle as he winked at me. I laughed as I locked my locker shut. "You wish, kid." He pretended to scoff. "'Kid?!' I'm two years older than you!!" The murders continued. Each one made the front page, but no others made it to YouTube. Each one was the same. Assassinations. Murders. Both women and men of high power. Judges. Elite members of society. The video of the first murder was taken down as quickly as it could, but it wasn't quick enough. It's leaked around the internet, now. If you look hard enough, I'm sure that you'll find it somewhere. Don't say I didn't warn you, though. Strange enough to say, I wrote about this kind of thing. I read graphic stories of murderers and psychopaths, usually falling for psychiatrists and policewomen. Yes, I read stories about bad men and their strange obsessions with good girls. I still do. I wrote some of these stories. Villains and heroines. I was an addict to these stories. They were my fears and yet my fantasies combined together in a twisted romance novel. A few weeks after the murders started, a girl found one of these books in my locker. The Hangman and His Obsession. Before I knew what was happening, she was flicking through the pages and looking at my marked page. I watched her pupils shrink. The Hangman had tied his obsession to a chair and murdered her. It was the climax of the book. It was just like the first murder. I heard the rumours flutter by, but I took very little notice. I was used to rumours. There was a stage at the end of last year when I was accused of being a lesbian (worst week of my life.) I didn't take these stories to heart anymore. But one day, things got bad. I was confronted by cowards. They stood around me as I typed on my laptop, the story flittering in black-and-white text as the keyboard clicked beneath my fingertips. I could feel them surround me, the once calm peace of the lunchtime afternoon suddenly stopping. The closest friend sitting next to me tapped my shoulder, getting my attention away from my laptop and my headphones. I saw them gathered around me, hands on hips with their silver bracelets dangling from their wrists like it was a holy garment. I paused my song and stared at them with a sigh. "What?" I said flatly. "Did you kill that guy?" The air seemed to slow down. "… Excuse me?" They grinned at me. Bright white fangs with perfect dental care. "Roberts. You killed him." My brow lowered. "No I didn't." "Yeah you did!" "I didn't!!" They laughed at the break in my voice. After years of not being noticed, I was put in the spotlight. Interrogated. "What are you writing?" they asked me. "My story, now fuck off." I may be a good girl but I don't have the cleanest of mouths. One ducked down, reading over my shoulder. "He forced me into one of our black dining-chairs. Holding me in place by my shoulders and forcing all his weight onto me--" I slammed the laptop lid shut. "God, you're such a freak!" "You totally murdered him!!" "Fucking vampire!" They laughed at my face. I lowered my gaze slightly, glaring not into their eyes but just below. They knew how to hurt me, even if I stayed as strong as I could. I felt myself become worn away, little pieces beginning to flake off as they stood there in a choir of bitches. Thank Christ my glasses were smudged... they couldn't see just how hurt I really was inside. "Fair fight, isn't it?" They turned around, spotting the creepiest of kids on campus. The boy with the bad reputation and the fighting skills to back him up. My best friend who was two feet taller than them, even when they were in heels. He smirked his amazing smile and stared at their frightened faces. "Move along, ladies. You don't want to start what you can't finish..." said Jack calmly, shooing them away with his hand. The one with the most chemicals in her hair spoke up. "You can't hit a girl! That's not fair!" Jack rocked his head back in laughter. "I don't see any girls here… Just a bunch of dumb whores who think that pushing someone down will make them look big... Girls, just start acting your age!! I mean... using mommy's makeup? Really?" They stormed off at once. Covering embarrassment with anger, they left with blushed faces in linked arms as they held each other for support. Jack looked at me with a grin after we watched them leave. "Better?" I nodded. "Thank you, Prince Charming, but I think I can take it from here..." He bowed low before turning around and walking away, the sunlight shining off of the grease in his hair. "Take care of her, girls!" My friends waved Jack good-bye as I stared after him. I decided from that moment that I was in love with Jack. Not just a crush on him or kidding around, but utterly head-over-heels in love with him. It wasn't a good feeling. I lay across my bed, shoulders shaking as I cried silently into my pillow. I could hear my brother's Disney music downstairs. My mother screaming at him to turn it down. Why did life have to be so complicated?! I hated it hated it hated it!! Life should just be simple and clean and normal, but it never was. Or at least that's how my life planned itself out. Just as I was at my happiest, something would come along and destroy it. "Hey, Jessie!" I buried my face in the pillow. She walked up behind me and sat down on the corner of my bed. "Are you okay?" "No." She rubbed my exposed ankle. Awkward body contact was her specialty. "Girls at school?" "They're all bitches and I hate them..." I mumbled into my pillow. She chuckled. "That's the spirit! ... Did they do anything to you?" I mumbled it too quietly for her to hear. "I'm in love with Jack..." She craned her neck. "What?" I turned over onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "Nevermind..." I muttered. I didn't want to talk about it, anyway. I was never good at talking to people about my problems. I just kept it all inside. It isn't healthy, I know, but then again a lot of the things I do aren't healthy. Mentally, physically, or spiritually. I don't like it when people worried about me. I just didn't think a teenage girl's problems were worth the time of others. Besides, what could anyone do? I faked a smile to my sister and kicked her hand away. "I'll get over it..." She faked one back. "Okay..." Her blue eyes looked at me sadly before she got up. "Get out of your uniform, okay?" she said as she walked out of the room and to her own next door. I did as told, sitting up on my bed and undoing the first few buttons on my clean white and blue uniform. The summer dress fell around my ankles as I kicked it away to the corner of the room, kicking my anger away with it. Just as I was getting dressed, the phone started ringing. Stumbling into my jeans, I walked out of my room and down the hallway as I did up the simple buckle in my belt. The closest phone to me was the one ringing beside the family computer nobody touched, just around the corner from my room. Picking up the phone in one hand and doing up my belt with the other, I balanced the cordless device in the crook of my neck as I tried to get dressed and talk at the same time. "Hello?" "God, you're such a freak!" "You totally murdered him!!" "Fucking vampire!" I paused, my mind freezing up on me. "Who is this?" I asked calmly. I went through my mantra. Don't show a reaction. They can throw rocks, but don't show the ripples. "God, you're such a freak!" "You totally murdered him!!" "Fucking vampire!" I hung up the phone with a stab of my thumb. I glared at the phone in my hand, wondering what the hell possessed them to do this to me. I had never been bullied to such an extreme before. The most I ever got were rumours and whispers in the hallway. Sly comments that I could ignore. But today was an ambush attack. Now this phone call? The phone went off in my hand once more. Not hesitating, I answered it with a prayer. "Hello?" "God, you're such a freak!" "You totally murdered him!!" "Fucking vampire!" The same line, over and over. This was the fourth time I had heard them today. The exact same lines, the exact same voice, everything. I could hear something else, too. A skidding. A crackle. It sounded like a tape. I was talking to a recording. What could I say? What could I say to stop this? I couldn't just stop answering the phone. If my mum picked it up and heard these girls' tape then she'd start to worry about me. I didn't want that to happen. I never liked people solving my problems and I didn't' want her to worry about my bullying cowards. I just stayed silent, listening as the words repeated over and over. I closed my eyes, standing there with the phone pressed to my ear as I tried to block it out. It felt like hours of just standing there in my bra and jeans with the recording repeating their insults. When it was getting to the point where the scratch of the recording seemed to echo inside my ears, I spoke up. "Who is this?" The other end of the line was silent. It wasn't empty, but it was silent. The recording stopped playing. I could feel someone on the other side listening to me. Waiting for me to speak. I could feel a shiver run through my body as I gripped tightly onto the phone. Angry and confused, I felt myself begin to snap. "Who is this? Tell me!" I ordered weakly. The creature laughed. His voice was like silk and I could taste the pleasure he took from my pain. "You don't scare me, baby..." he purred. I was unfamiliar to his voice. To anyone with a voice like that. Seductive and deadly, like dripping candle wax. I was left with a burn. "You may scare those little girls with your stories and your secrets... but don't even think... about scaring me..." he continued, his voice turning vicious. I gulped. "Who is this? Are you her older brother or something?" He chuckled. "Do you know how many times you've asked that, Jean?" I froze. "How do you know my name? A-And my number?!" I clasped a hand over my mouth, ducking my head around the corner to look out for my sister. I could hear her music playing from her room, competing with the noise of my brother downstairs. All this sound and all this noise seemed so distant to me. So far away. I was just stuck there in my spot, separated from everyone else, stripped in my bra and jeans. I suddenly felt more exposed than I actually was. "Who are you...?" I asked softly through my fingertips. I could feel the smile of jagged teeth through the line. "I have long devastated the country... No pestilence has ever been so fatal... Blood is my avatar and my seal... the redness... and the horror... of blood..." My mind flashed to the image of Matthew Roberts and his puffy pink eyes… The shadow that leapt at him with it's long crooked dagger of fire as it slit his throat... "The scarlet stains upon the body... and especially upon the face of the victim... And the whole seizure, progress and termination of my disease… were the incidents of half and hour..." The shadow fell upon him now fell upon my soul. I felt at my neck to make sure I didn't have the same scar as Roberts did. Quietly, I closed the sliding door behind me to shut me away from Steph. I didn't want her or anyone else to hear this. Instinct told me that this phone call wasn't for prying ears. "I... Why are you--?" "Ever heard of a little place called 'Prospero Castle?" The title was new to me. "N-No--" "Jean, are you a dancer?" I didn't really know how to respond. The question just came from nowhere and from one of the most horrifying psychopaths that Kite City has ever faced. I was still trying to get over how casual he sounded about this whole situation while I was freaking out. "A little, I guess..." He chuckled to himself at my timid response. "You sound nervous... Relax, baby! This is a formal invitation! How do you feel about a little masquerade, hmm?" I had always wanted to go to a masquerade. Elegant costumes, glitzy ballrooms, beautiful dancing... It was an unspoken dream of mine to always go to one. But with this guy? Not a chance. I was not going to waltz around in some damp cellar with some perverted criminal. "I-I can't go..." I replied cowardly. "I only just asked you... I haven't even told you when it is!" he laughed through the phone. "I won't go!" I insisted, keeping my voice low. "Would you go with Jack?" "… excuse me?" "You heard me, Jean... I know about your little boyfriend..." I hated how he said the word 'boyfriend.' It sounded childish, pathetic, and weak when it came from his tainted lips. Besides, he wasn't' my 'little boyfriend'!! Jack was far from that! He-He had Harry anyway! "Tell me, Jean... How much does Jack White mean to you?" Jack White. How do I begin to describe Jack White? His physical appearance is disturbing. Lanky, tall and awful posture. His skin is pale and he hardly ever sleeps, creating dark circles of sleepless nights underneath his bright green eyes. He hardly ever washes his hair and always runs grease and gel through his dirty blonde lock to style it, giving it an oily tint. He was often told off by teachers to sit up straight at his desk, where he meekly lifted his head in an attempt to care. When he wasn't bored he was a rascal, starting fights with the other Year Twelve students. He often set pranks and got himself in detention regularly, always finding a way to get back on his fights. Though violent and mischevious, he was also cunning and had the most twisted sense of humour you could imagine. Jack White was one of those kids who only came to St Peter's College because of it's high reputation, not for the religion. He didn't have a holy bone in his body. If he was connected to anything biblical then he was the antichrist. He had an infectious smile that made me grin every time I thought about it. Though a tremendous flirt and kidder, I knew just how pissed Harry would be. Harriet was his girlfriend and self-proclaimed one true love. She couldn't stand knowing that Jack and I hung out like this all the time. Just casual friends. She was in Year Eleven, just one year older than me, and hated me with a passion for 'stealing her man.' I have no intention of taking 'her man' away from her, I just found a strange comfort in Jack. He used to set the neighborhood cats on fire when he was younger while I used to play with my sister and our paper dolls. But for some reason, it just seemed to work. We were friends. Very... close... friends... The criminal laughed on the other side of the line. "Oh I know aallll about your friend, Jean... And I know all about you, too..." I swallowed. "What do you mean?" "I've seen the glances that no one else can see... The lies that you've told... That hint of lust that lurks inside of you just screaming to get out... You ruined a relationship in the hopes that you can have another... With a boy that not only has a girlfriend of his own already but doesn't even notice how much you need him!" I trembled as he laughed in mockery. "You tell yourself that you're a good angel, Jessica Jean, but you know…! You know... that you're as far from heaven as any 'angel' could ever be... You are a sinner. A cheater... The things that you think and the needs that you want to fill are against everything you were raised to be..." "… Please stop this..." He smirked. "Do you want to know what I think?... I find you... fascinating. Your inner demons are beautiful... But they're blocked up by your fears… So why not let it loose? Show off just how strong of a sinner you can be... Join me and the girls at the masquerade..." I swallowed the saliva in my mouth, the loud gulp heard in his ears. I sucked in my gut, puffed out my chest and lifted up my chin. I said it strongly and clearly, to be sure that he could hear me and the strength I had inside me. "No." I could hear this calm sort of silence coming from him. As he thought over the rejection and everything I hadn't said, both the insults that I kept inside of me and the sad truth knowing that every word he said was right, he kept silent. Finally, after an age of silence flowed through us, he reached the lowest point he could sink. "Well... You're probably wondering what this all has to do with White." Nodding though he couldn't see me, I replied with a 'yes.' "Jean, you're a big girl... Fifteen years old, right? You should be able to stomach the hard facts..." he said smoothly and calmly. "So I'm going to put this very bluntly... If you don't come to this masquerade, Jack White will die. I'm gonna break into his house, cut out his tongue, shoot him in the leg and watch him silently crawl away as I walk after him... Then, when he's close to exhaustion, I'm gonna pin him to the ground and tell him that I'm only doing this because his best friend was too much of a coward to go to a little song and dance. And then I'll slit his throat real slow... make the pain last... and watch him bleed all over the place." I stood there, the phone pressed to my ear. I heard every word he said, but it just couldn't process in my brain. I could hear the threats and I could see it all happening before me, but I couldn't take it in. I was just thinking the same thought over and over... 'Why does this have to be me? Why nobody else? What have I done? Why did Jack have to die? Was it because I had a crush on him? Why me? Why this?! What have I done to deserve this to happen to me!?' But with all these thoughts running through me, I could only figure out one thing to say. I leant against the sliding door and fell, my bare back skidding against the wood as I fell and landed, the phone still in my hand as I breathed out the question in a whisper. "Why?" He laughed at me. The same laugh that he laughed when he murdered Matthew Roberts. The same laugh that he laughed when he murdered the other politicians and heads of companies. That horrible, twisted, deep laugh that drove me to insanity. "Now, now, baby-" "Don't 'baby' me!" I cut in before he could spin me another story about how painful my life was. "Look, I'm willing to give you money. Any amount you want. I'll rob, I'll steal, I-I'll do anything! Just please!! Don't hurt Jack..." He scoffed at my young plead. "You've been listening to those girls at school for far too long, babe... This isn't about how rich your daddy is or how stuck-up you are... This is about you. A dance. With me. And my friends..." I swallowed. "Just a dance? You won't try anything?" His chuckle didn't soothe me in any way. "I can't promise anything, Miss Jean..." I felt so vulnerable in that room. I wanted to hide away in my closet like I used to when I was five. I wanted to watch cartoons and drink warm milk with vanilla sugar. I didn't want to be here in this conversation with this monster. I may enjoy writing these moments, but experiencing them? A whole different matter. I hated that satisfaction I once had at the thought of danger. I wanted to slap the me of the past, shake her by the shoulders and tell her that life is more dangerous than any book can be. But this was a moment for me to prove myself to whatever power that brought me here that I'm not entirely bad. This is one chance to prove that despite my habits, my imagination and my lies I was good. I wanted to have a moment to look back on and prove myself that I have my moments of pure heart. But most of all, I wanted to make sure that Jack was safe. "I'll do it." "That's a good girl..." he said in a dark and delicious voice. It sent chills up my spine and made me regret those three little words. But then he turned serious and strict as he took me through his orders, step by step. "Now then... Tomorrow night, a car will meet you outside of your house at nine o'clock... If you aren't there, the driver will call me and I'll make sure your little Jack knows just how much you love him...You are to tell no one of our little meeting, Jean. No one… Now go back to your room, babe, and pick out something pretty for the big dance..." The dial tone sang me a tone-deaf lullaby as he hung up on me. As if someone had knocked the life out of me, the wrist that was supporting the phone just dropped to my side limply. Staring straight ahead like a zombie, I felt like I had been winded. I just felt dead. There's no poetic or better way to put it. I felt like my soul was stolen. Hollow. Blank. I had no idea what to say or what to do. It was obvious that I couldn't go to anyone about this. Not even Steph, and she was the one person I told all my problems to when things got too rough for me. When I finally took a deep breath and managed to find my feet, I slipped the phone back into it's holder and opened the sliding door. Life continued spinning. Steph's music kept playing. My brother kept watching his videos. But I kept a curse that I couldn't bear beneath my breast. I could feel a choke in my throat that I wanted to swallow. An ache in my chest I wanted to numb. As I opened the door to my room I readied myself for a good hard cry, but something threw me off. There was a box. On my bed. With a scarlet ribbon. I had never received a present so beautifully wrapped in my whole life... why did it have to be from him? How did it even get in here, anyway? It looked so beautiful and elegant compared to the dirty clothes and schoolbooks that were cast on the floor. I picked up a dirty grey shirt that I wore yesterday and quickly pulled it on. I didn't know when this guy had put this parcel down, if he was still lurking in one of my cupboards then I didn't want him spying on me. I gently tugged at the red ribbons with caution, undoing the bow and letting the silk fall to pieces. Hesitating slightly, I pulled open the lid to get a glimpse of what lay inside. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe Jack's pale ear drenched with blood that he had severed from his face. A bomb. A knife. A masquerade dress wasn't exactly high on the list. It was an elegant number made of velvet fabric that looked like a living constellation. It was definitely more of a costume piece, short and youthful with bold contrasts of black and white layers of fabric. The cut was just above my breasts with a gold star placed in the center. Dark blue strips of silk made the sleeves, matching the ribbon bracelet with an identical gold star as the collar and sash around the waist. The shoes beneath the layers of lace and velvet even had their own gold trim, and the thin black mask that I found in the bottom of the box was embellished with blue and yellow feathers. And I thought I was going to have to wear my Alice dress. ... how could he do this to me? "Jess?" I turned around quickly at the sound of my sister's voice. I quickly piled the shoes, the mask and the dress messily on top of each other and squashed the lid down. "Y-Yes?" I called back, pushing the box off the bed and letting it crash onto the floor. Steph opened up the door, watching me as she took in my forced smile. She cocked her head slightly to the side. "Are you okay? I heard you talking on the phone before. Who was it?" she asked me. I thought up of my lie quickly. "Oh, it was just a wrong number. Some old woman on the other side wouldn't shut up... I had to talk her out of it..." "Oh, okay!" she said calmly. "Are you feeling better?" It was a difficult question to answer. I stared at her tender smile and her big blue eyes. Her light-brown hair with the slight curl, a strand or two loose from her ponytail. I heard the voice of my enemy ringing through my mind. The threats he had made and the power in his voice. I didn't dare break my promise. For all I knew, he had eyes everywhere. So instead, I smiled. I smiled and pretended that everything was normal. I smiled and let her believe that I was just upset about school. Not about a murderer inviting me to his castle, but about school. She could never understand the pain that I was going through... "Yeah... I'm okay..." For the past day, I've been tempted to tell her. I couldn't even think about going to school, let alone look at Jack and try not to tell him that I'm risking my life for his own. I faked that I was sick and just stayed at home, even though it risked my mother's trust in me. When my sister came to visit me, she told me that she was going out tonight, too. She's seemed pretty stressed out herself, but whenever I ask she just smiles and says that she's okay. I know the feeling... It's 8:50 and my mother is asleep. I need to post this online before I go so that someone – anyone – can hear my prayer. My name is Jessica Jean. I'm fifteen years old and I like cartoons. I'm a Catholic that commits one small sin a day and I fear that they're beginning to add up. I'm in love with my insane best friend who is the only reason why I'm now crying my eyes out as I type this. He'll probably never get the chance to read this. Why am I crying? The most wanted killer in all of Kite City chose me. Little old me. He wants me for something and I don't know what. I wish that my tone could come across through text, then I could tell you just how scared I really am. I don't have time for poetic writing anymore, I need someone to hear my last words before I die. My name is Jessica Jean and I've been touched by the Red Death.